


Let Love Bleed Red

by kiboutozetsubou



Series: Soulmate AU [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Kamukoma Week 2019, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 09:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18568309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiboutozetsubou/pseuds/kiboutozetsubou
Summary: Kamukoma Week Day One - SoulmatesJunko Enoshima asked Izuru Kamukura to bring her her soulmate. He brings the man he thinks is Makoto Naegi, but a case of mistaken identity leads to disastrous consequences.





	Let Love Bleed Red

**Author's Note:**

> im back writing kamukoma again like three years later lmaoo
> 
> so for this prompt i decided to write an excerpt of something that was going to happen wayyyy down the line in my soulmate au, which im sure i wont ever finish. i tried to explain well enough whats going on for ppl who havent read that, but im not really sure if its gonna make sense or be enjoyable if u havent lol. i just felt like it was a good opportunity to go w this prompt since i already have this au.
> 
> one important thing to note before reading is that the fic deals w a case of mistaken identity, so the person izuru and junko think is naegi (initially) is actually komaeda. 
> 
> also, junko is the head of a crime syndicate, and izuru is an assassin who works for her. meanwhile, komaeda and the real naegi work at a detective agency that’s intent on bringing down junko’s organization.

Enoshima’s eyes and smile are wide with malice when she enters the room and catches sight of Naegi, tied up and kneeling at my side. The look makes me tense in apprehension, even though it isn’t directed at me.

“Kamukura-kun!” she exclaims happily, but she’s still looking at the man next to me. “You really did it! Not that I ever really doubted you. You’ve never failed me before, huh?”

She asked me to bring her Makoto Naegi, her soulmate. What feels like a lifetime ago, but was probably in reality only a couple weeks ago, those damning little letters first appeared on her left hand. His isn’t the first name to appear there, but her previous two soulmates are both dead.

The man I brought to her has a small, almost sickly frame, wispy white hair, and stormy eyes filled with contempt. He is staring at her with the coldest look I’ve ever seen. I wonder what Enoshima sees when she looks at him. What do  _I_ see? After spending the past week with Naegi, my perspective has changed enough that I can’t say I’m happy with bringing him to her. Not that I ever was, but—it wasn’t my business.

It still isn’t, I remind myself dutifully. None of this is.

“It wasn’t all that difficult,” I say dismissively. “It would have been even easier if you hadn’t left the country and made me wait an entire week.”

“Don’t tell me you got _attached_ ,” Enoshima mocks. “Ah, not that I’d blame you. Look at him, he’s gorgeous, isn’t he? It’s nice to finally meet you, _Naegi-kun_.”

She grabs him and hauls him up to his feet. Tied up, he can do nothing but glare savagely at her. She shivers, a delirious look on her face as she inspects him up close. “So cold! Not even going to greet me? You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

I don’t really want to stay. But my legs won’t move. I can’t look away from Naegi as Enoshima grabs his face, turning him this way and that, before she snatches his left sleeve and pulls it back. Checking to see if her name was on his left hand, as well. I never told her whether it was or not. She won’t find any confirmation there.

Enoshima looks appropriately surprised to discover a stump where Naegi’s left hand would have been. She starts to laugh. “Ahh, how despairing! Now I’ll never know if my name was there or not. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me, will you? I spent all this time wondering, waiting—what outcome would have given me the most despair? But I never even thought of this!” She laughs harder, a cruel, manic sound, her bright red nails digging into Naegi’s wrist. “You really are the one for me, Naegi-kun.”

He still doesn’t answer her. Doesn’t even flinch at her nails as they claw at his skin. His gaze flicks over to me, his expression indecipherable. It’s strange seeing him without his trademark carefree smile. He told me he hated Enoshima, but I haven’t seen the way that hate warps his personality.

Enoshima follows his gaze. “Do you think Kamukura-kun is going to help you? Forget about him. He was just delivering you to me. And now, you’re mine.” As if to prove it, she holds up her left hand, letting him read the name there. He doesn’t look impressed. “We’re going to have so much fun together—I’m trembling just thinking about it!”

She is, I can see the excited quivering of her fingers. She barrels on without waiting for Naegi to respond, not that he would. “Hey, hey, do you hate me, Naegi-kun? After what I did to Hinata-kun and Kirigiri-san?”

Naegi suddenly flinches like he’s been struck, a full-body cringe. My hand twitches as though to move. I smother down the subconscious urge and focus on his reaction. He told me about what happened when Enoshima attacked Hope’s Peak Detective Agency. He said a number of agents died, including Kyouko Kirigiri and his own partner. That must be who Hinata-kun is, then.

I wonder why his reaction is so extreme. Maybe he never got over it. I suppose not, since he hates Enoshima so much—but the shock on his face doesn’t make sense, then.

Enoshima doesn’t seem to think it makes sense, either. “What’s the matter? You already knew that. Don’t tell me you really didn’t realize that was me. I know you’re smarter than that.” She grins. “That’s why you hate me, right?”

Naegi doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her. His gaze is distant, his eyes darting back and forth as though trying to piece something together. Enoshima quickly gets bored of this and slaps him.

“Hey, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but at least _pay attention_ to me if you’re not going to say anything,” she complains. “God, so rude. And after I had Kamukura-kun bring you here for such an important purpose!

“And what’s that?” He speaks up for the first time, venom in his voice.

Quick as a flash, she pulls a knife and yanks his sleeve up, slicing the meat of his forearm. He sucks in a breath. I feel a twinge as I watch, eyes wide. The cut is long but not too deep—deep enough to bleed, but not to be dangerous on its own.

“You must know this, Naegi-kun,” Enoshima says conversationally, bringing the knife down again for another slice on his other arm. “But soulmates feel each other’s pain! Not every trivial pain that they experience, but the _real excruciating pain_. Isn’t that so romantic? What can be more amazing than sharing in despair with the one you love? I can’t get enough of that feeling!” She cuts him again. He’s biting his lip and doesn’t make a sound, but each movement of the knife makes my hands jerk again.

Enoshima’s face screws up in frustration. “But I’m not feeling any pain right now at all. I guess I’m not hurting you enough.”

With a swing of her arm, the next cut slices clean across his chest, deeper than before. Designed not for maximum damage, but for pain. A quiet sound escapes him, which only increases in volume as she mercilessly drives into him again, cutting him open on his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach.

I realize I’m trembling. I wonder what’s wrong with me, that I suddenly care this much about Naegi. I hadn’t even realized I had come to think of him as something worth caring about at all. This is nothing, this means nothing, to me. But I feel a jolt in my stomach with ever drop of blood drawn, and I don’t know how much more I can take.

Over the ringing and blood pounding in my ears, I hear a furious snarl. Enoshima looks livid and frustrated, but there’s not an ounce of pain in her expression. If there were, I’m sure she’d look ecstatic instead.

I take a step toward her, then another. My body moves on its own, intent to interfere even before I’ve decided to do it myself.

Enoshima doesn’t notice me approach. “Why can’t I feel anything?!” Her yell is desperate and confused, as she seeks that feeling that she craves so much.

Her hand moves again, so fast that I can’t register what she’s doing before I  _feel_ it, feel the blinding pain as she rips open my stomach. An agonized scream rips from my throat as I collapse to my knees, gasping, throwing out my arms to push her away, how did she—

Except she didn’t. In the haze of delirious pain I see: the knife isn’t buried in my stomach. It’s buried, hilt-deep and slicked with red, in Naegi’s stomach. His jaw is dropped open in a silent scream. Enoshima isn’t watching him. She’s looking at me, where I’m crumbled on the floor, feeling like my every nerve has been set on fire.

Her face is perfectly blank for a moment, before she erupts into furious laughter. It’s the most high-pitched, deranged sound I’ve heard from her yet. It’s the most filled with despair. “Kamukura-kun!” she calls, singsong. “Oh, this is even better than what I could have possibly expected!”

She moves over to me. Paralyzed by phantom pain, I’m helpless to stop her as she tugs the glove off of my left hand. The name that has always been printed on there is revealed to her for the first time: Nagito Komaeda.

“How despairingly tragic!” she says gleefully. “You didn’t bring me my soulmate at all, Kamukura-kun. You brought me your own! What an amazing present, but you still screwed up and didn’t do as I asked. I think I can forgive you, if you do me a little favor…”

Before I can move, before I can think, she grabs the handle of the knife and twists it. Naegi—Komaeda, it’s Komaeda, has it really been him this whole time? He—screams, or maybe that’s my own scream, or maybe they both blend together and I can’t tell the difference anymore.

She pulls the knife out. Her arm pulls back in a wide arch, intent to drive it back in again, this time higher up, in his chest.

I don’t realize that I’m moving, or even that I was capable of it with the wave of pain lancing through my body. But when I blink, I’ve grabbed her wrist, and in the next second I’ve thrown her across the room where she lands with a sickening thump, unconscious.

The second she does, the door bursts open and her agents start to file in. Against the agony in my veins and the stars bursting in my vision, I grab the knife and drive it into the chest of the first person I see. There’s chaos as they surround me. My body works on autopilot from years of training—years that Enoshima gave to me, that I’m now using against her.

Suddenly a loud siren blares in the air. A cacophony of shouting rises to meet it, and amid it I distinctly hear the words “Hope’s Peak.” The detective agency is here—which is enough to send the agents running, forgetting about me entirely. They take Enoshima with them before I can stop them. I’m not in any shape to do so anyway.

I drop to my knees next to Nagito Komaeda, who is now breathing shallowly, trembling, blood pouring from the deep, deep wound in his stomach. He looks at me, but he can’t seem to choke anything past the pain in his throat.

I don’t know how Hope’s Peak Detective Agency found this place, but I can guess it had something to do with Komaeda. He seems to have this way of continuing to surprise me, one-upping me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. I see this in a new light now that I know who he really is.

“You lied to me,” I say, because he told me his name was Makoto Naegi, and I had believed him. And now look at us.

If he had told me his real name, what would I have done, then? Knowing it to be the name that has been on my left hand for my entire life?

I can’t be sure. It hurts to think. In flashes I see myself ripping off my shirt, tying it around his stomach, pulling him close to me, his pained gasps in my ear. Footsteps flood into the room again.

Komaeda’s head jerks to see the young man standing in the doorway. “Naegi-kun,” he chokes out. I look over to see the real Makoto Naegi, in the flesh, staring mortifyingly at the scene before him, at the blood, blood, blood soaking the floor.

I stand. Naegi barely notices me, watching Komaeda with a haunted look. I know I can’t stay; more agents are coming, and they aren’t going to let me go if they catch me.

“Take care of him,” I say, the words a ragged whisper that I can barely recognize.

Naegi looks at me then. His eyes widen like he’s seen a ghost. “Wait—aren’t you—”

I don’t stick around to hear what he has to say. Having scoped out the escape routes earlier, I leave through the window, scaling down the second story and disappearing into the cover of night in the streets below.

It’s difficult to find a safehouse to stay at that Enoshima doesn’t know about, but I manage it. I don’t sleep a wink, but the pain in my body dies down. If Komaeda died, I would know about it. Supposedly, the pain I would feel would be beyond imagining.

Enoshima knows this, too. This is why she wanted me to bring her Makoto Naegi in the first place. I knew, I suspected, that she had killed her last two soulmates. That’s what she was planning on doing to him as well. I’m sure of that now. Enoshima is a twisted individual who thrives on feeling pain and despair. Killing one’s soulmate is the worst despair a person could ever feel. Of course she’s addicted to the feeling.

In the darkness, I bring up my left arm, staring at the blank letters I know are inked there. I never thought I’d meet this person, and to have it happen this way...now that the pain and self-preservation instinct has died down, I’m not sure what to think. Have I ever cared about having a soulmate?

I’m startled to realize that, from the time I’ve spent with Komaeda, I do care about him. It doesn’t matter if I’m not his soulmate as well—not that I’d ever know. He told me he cut off his own hand in some deranged attempt to reject the soulmate connection, and he never said what name had been etched on there. I’m not sure if he would have said if it were mine.

His soulmate could be the real Naegi, for all I know. I realize now that Nagito Komaeda probably told me his name was Makoto Naegi because he wanted to protect him. He somehow suspected that I had bad intentions, and he wanted whatever was going to be done to Naegi to be done to him instead. He certainly got his wish; Naegi was protected from Enoshima, at least for now.

But Enoshima isn’t going to stop now. I’ve already gone against her and labelled myself as a traitor. I might as well put everything I have into taking her down.

I’ve worked for her for these past years because I owed it to her, because I had nothing else, anyway. I don’t remember any of my life before coming to her.

But now I do have something else, don’t I? Komaeda put his life on the line to protect someone he cared about.

I want to experience the feeling of doing the same.

**Author's Note:**

> theres more to the resolution of this shit than what i have written here but lets just say dw komaeda and izuru are definitely mutual soulmates, even if izuru doesnt know it yet. i dropped some hints about that, but if anyone is curious for more detail lmk


End file.
